


Father Mine

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blood and Violence, Captivity, Father-Daughter Relationship, Kidnapping, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Other, Parentlock, Sherlock's Mind Palace, Sherlock's daughter, Shooting, Shooting Guns, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24870340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Katherine's dad, Sherlock Holmes, is shot, rendering him unconscious and the doctors are unsure if he will live. Katherine receives strange texts and calls from an blocked number that give her several clues to the key for solving a hundred-year-mystery. When her father disappears from the hospital, Katherine must race against time to save him and solve Moriaty's puzzle before she loses her dad forever.
Relationships: Mary Morstan/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	Father Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys...  
> Hope you like this story :)

March 27, 2020  
Bored. B-O-R-E-D spells bored. 

I can’t think of anything else to write, so I lay down my pen and close my diary with a sigh. “Bored!” I say loudly. My exclamation is greeted with the whistling of the tea pot and the rumbling of the ancient fridge as it struggles to crank out a batch of ice cubes. Oh yeah, I remember, Dad and John went out on a case. I’m used to staying home alone but for some reason, the silence is disconcerting. It doesn’t help that it’s raining outside and the wind is battering the window panes. I hear the distant rumble of thunder and immediately, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight. 

“Mrs. Hudson?” I call through the open door, hoping that our cheerful landlady is home and perhaps willing to give me a few moments of attention. There is no reply, and after calling a few more times, I give up and retreat back into the flat. Curling up in my dad’s big armchair, I gaze at the empty fireplace, trying to think of something to keep my mind off the storm and my extreme boredom. 

The phone rings, scaring the heck out of me. 

I jump up and race to grab my mobile, which is sitting on the kitchen table. The screen displays “Sherlock Holmes (Dad 😎 )” and I immediately press the ‘answer’ button. “Hi? Dad?” I try to keep the fear out of my voice as I speak but it’s hard. The storm is growing in frenzy outside and the lights have started flickering. 

“Hey, Kate,” Dad says in his deep, soothing baritone voice. “Are you alright? You sound frightened.” 

Of course. Leave it to my dad to deduce what’s going on. “Um…. I’m okay, but can you come home soon? I’m bored and Mrs. Hudson is gone and there’s a storm and…. And Dad, I’m scared.” I say this last part in a whisper but Dad hears. I hate admitting my fears to Dad; I want him to believe that I’m his brave girl-that I’m never scared. 

“We’re coming home right now, Kate,” he says and then I hear him talking with John and John arguing back. “Um, hold on a minute, Kate….” There’s some rustling on the other end of the line and I hear Dad say, “Lestrade, I need to go now. It was the brother-in-law who killed her. Arrest him quickly, I daresay, before he realizes his cover is blown and decides to escape London.” Then, “Kate, I’m back. You still okay?” 

“Yeah,” I say weakly. Thunder booms just overhead and the light above the dining table swings, fluttering and flashing before finally fizzling out. The rain outside is coming down in thick, heavy sheets, pounding furiously against the window and causing the glass to rattle. “Are you coming?” 

“Yep, right now. We’re getting in a cab. Hey, Kate, I have to hang up. The connection is really bad. But we’ll be home soon…… I love you, Katie.” Then, the line goes dead. 

I love you, Katie…. I love you, Katie….

I treasure Dad’s words, storing them away in my Mind Palace to retrieve and remember whenever I feel alone and scared. Maybe I’m just being paranoid but I have a bad feeling that this is the last time Dad and I are going to speak with each other for a very long time. “Stop it, Kate. Don’t be a scaredy cat! It’s probably nothing,” I tell myself fiercely and I go back to the living room and sit down. “I guess I’ll watch telly,” I say out loud, and I pick up the remote. 

There’s nothing but crap news on. ‘Woman burns finger on stove’ and ‘Cat Scratches Man.’ I switch channels to the BBC News. The case that Dad and John were investigating is on. Two children and a young woman were found, throats brutally slit, in the basement of an abandoned warehouse. They had rope burns on their ankles and wrists, and showed signs of being dehydrated. The police assumed they had been kept in captivity a long time. There were no clues left behind that the police could find but that’s where my dad stepped in. The BBC starts playing a reel of an on-scene interview with Inspector Lestrade and my dad. 

“There was absolutely nothing that our forensics team could find that pointed us to the killer,” Lestrade said, looking very old with his graying hair and the huge bags beneath his eyes. Very little sleep the past week…. Arguing with wife again…. Wife is having an affair…. Taken to smoking and drinking to alleviate stress, I read. 

“That’s because Andersen’s on forensics and Andersen doesn’t know the difference between a bruise inflicted before death and a bruise inflicted after death,” Dad interrupted Lestrade, looking quite smug. The camera panned to show Andersen and Donovan. Both were glaring at Dad. I could almost hear their thoughts: Freak. “Anyway, the case is solved.” Dad pulls up the collar of his dark Belstaff coat and strides in the direction of a cab, leaving Lestrade behind to explain the recent events. 

“Katherine?” 

Someone’s pounding up the stairs. 

“Katherine, are you here?” 

It’s not Dad. 

“Don’t you have better things to do than scare the wits out of me, Donovan?” I call.

The dark-haired officer bursts into the flat, dressed in a bulletproof vest and brandishing a radio in her right hand. “She’s in here, Lestrade,” Donovan says into the radio and then starts towards me. “Katherine, you need to come with us. Your dad… he’s…. There’s been a….” 

“Shooting,” I say, looking at Donovan’s hands. She has blood all over them. My father’s blood, I know. “Where? How? When? Why?” 

Donovan sighs heavily and puts a hand on my shoulder. I jerk away and she looks insulted but I don’t care. “The suspect…. We were arresting him and he got away…. Shot your dad as he was fleeing when the freak-sorry… Sherlock, got in the way. I’m not going to lie, Kate. It’s bad.” 

I clench my fists. “Take me to him now.” 

Donovan bites her lip. “Nope. Sorry. They won’t let anyone in. He’s in surgery right now. I’m here to pick you up and take you to Mycroft’s house. He wants you to stay with him while your dad’s in the hospital.” She glances around the dim flat, eyes resting on the tv, which is still blaring the news. “Get your bag… toothbrush… whatever.” 

“I don’t want to go stay with Mycroft. I want to go see my dad. Don’t order me around. I’m not your kid.” I feel like crying but I don’t want to break down in front of Donovan. “I want to see Lestrade, Donovan.” When she hesitates, I add firmly, “Now.” 

“Ugh….” she groans but turns on her radio. “Freak’s kid wants to talk with you. Now, she says.” 

A few moments later, Lestrade appears at the top of the stairwell, his face ashen. “Katherine,” he says and hurries to me immediately, wrapping his strong arms around me and pulling me close. I don’t pull away; Lestrade is almost like my second father. I bury my nose in his leather jacket and breathe in his scent: slightly smokey, but comforting. “I know you want to see your dad, kid, but you can’t right now, okay?” 

“What are they doing to him, Greg?” I ask, blinking back my tears. 

“They are trying to remove a bullet from his chest. Right near his heart.” 

I gasp. A bullet hit to the heart is 99% percent of the time fatal. “H-How….?” 

“It’s a miracle, I know,” Greg says. “Just…. Just pray that he will live through the surgery. The shooter is in custody, don’t worry, and he will be tried for triple manslaughter and attempted manslaughter. Mycroft called me. He wants you to come stay with him. I know that’s not exactly what you want but it’s safer for you right now. John probably won’t be home tonight. He’s staying at the hospital to look after Sherlock. You understand, don’t you?” 

“Yes sir,” I whisper. “I’ll get my stuff.” 

Fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting in the back of Greg’s police car, clutching my backpack and my stuffed walrus to my chest. I stare out the window, watching as London speeds past and raindrops race down the window. Greg is speaking with someone on the radio while Donovan maneuvers the car through the busy London traffic. I keep thinking about my dad, alone and bleeding in the hospital and I know that he needs me more than anything. I want to scream, pound on the windows, and demand that Lestrade take me to the hospital but I can hear Dad’s voice in my head, saying “It’s going to be alright, Kate,” and I relax. All I can do is wait.


End file.
